


Knackered

by colberry



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Obvious Reita is obvious, Ruki's life is shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colberry/pseuds/colberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ruki abhors Thursday nights, Aoi swan-dives and Reita is a hands-on opportunist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knackered

Ruki loathed Thursday nights.  
  
Not so much the part where the band went out for drinks nor the part when Kai was peer-pressured into taking shots or when Aoi lost all inhibition and began to nuzzle Uruha’s cheek.  No, Ruki typically enjoyed those parts – especially when Reita would become flushed and start awkwardly placing his hands on random parts of Ruki’s body.  Ruki kind of lived for those moments, like right now – the bassist clumsily brushing his clammy hand against Ruki’s elbow, thinking he was being suavely discreet – sober nerves watered down to sloppy ambition.  
  
No, it was really more of the part that came after the tap ran dry.  
  
Ruki loathed being the designated driver.  
  
He scowled, not even Reita’s hand (not-so-subtlely) grappling at his pinky bringing him out of his black thoughts of what was to come in T-minus ten minutes.  
  
There was a time when the band would rotate the responsibility of chauffeuring their sloshed-wasted- _fuck-Uruha-get-back-in-the-car_ counterparts home.  But after four of them caught on that Ruki always nursed a mere apple juice or green tea all evening, well…  Suffice to say, Ruki was now officially the band’s vocalist and drunkard-wrangler.  
  
Ruki’s scowl deepened (he absently heard Aoi attempt to climb onto a table somewhere to his right).  
  
It was a poor choice, really.  Two out of the four were blackout-lightweights (Reita and Kai), one was a weepy drunk (Aoi) and Uruha was Uruha.  With Ruki’s less-than-desirable stature, it was nigh impossible to gather up all the sniveling, leaking bodies and stuff them into his (precious, white leather, just cleaned, sparkling) car.  Not to mention the arduous process of keeping all limbs in said vehicle, hauling them out and praying the others will stay put and not die (or toss rancid cookies) while he deposited everyone at their doorstep.  
  
It was a race against time.  And Ruki was a crappy driver.  Specifically when Aoi covers his eyes from the backseat for an impromptu game of peek-a-boo.  
  
The blond-haired man had attempted to lead everybody into the subway when he was first assigned this harrowing job.  It was a less than stellar experience.  Unconscious Kai sprawled on the floor, horny Aoi trying to impress Uruha by sliding down the poles, unsubtle Reita nonchalantly putting his hand down who-he-thought-to-be “Ruki’s” pants and wildcard Uruha somehow ending up on a different train…  
They were politely told to get the fuck out after two stops.  
  
“Hey-hey, guys.  Guys.  _Guys_.  U-kun!  Wa~tch, watch.  Swan-dive!”  
  
Ruki whipped his head around frantically, spotting Aoi in an impressive diving stance upon the table – bare feet (fuck, now Ruki had to save his ass _and_ find those damn Crocs) curling around the edge, ready to leap.  
  
“Motherfuck – !”  Ruki made to throw himself towards Aoi, either to strangle him or break his fall, whichever came first – but found himself on Reita’s lap instead.  He allowed himself a moment of inward gleeful-flailing before growling viciously at the bassist, “Are you fucking insa – !?”  
  
“Ru-kun, Owie will b’fine.  He’s a surf-er.”  
  
Ruki glared, “I think – I _think_ – water is fucking required, dumbass.”  
  
He (reluctantly) untangled himself from Reita’s octopi arms and sprinted towards the makeshift diving board – just in time for Aoi to belly flop into his arms.  Unfortunately, Aoi weighed about two-Ruki’s and therefore the smaller man found himself smacking against the bar floor with the guitarist smashed against his chest.  
 _  
Oh sweet Buddha, my back –_  
  
Kai gasped.  
  
Uruha clapped.  
  
x.x.x  
  
“M’sorry, Ru-chan…”  
  
“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Aoi.  Reita, press the scotch lower.”  
  
Flopped over the table, Ruki glowered as Reita dutifully moved Uruha’s scotch on the rocks down his back.  It was safe to say that Thursday-slosh-fest was over.  
  
Aoi was sporting a guilty face, dried tears making his cheeks blotchy.  
  
Reita dared not say a word or move his hands anywhere else than instructed.  
  
Uruha was moping over the loss of his scotch.  
  
And Kai had blacked out soon after Aoi’s swan dive.  
  
His crooked spine, and the fact that it was difficult to find new instrumentalists so late in the year, kept Ruki from committing an impressive display of manslaughter.  
  
Taking a deep breath through gritted teeth, Ruki waved Reita away and straightened, ready to get this dreadful night over with.  “Alright.  We’re leaving.  Someone grab Uruha’s hand so he doesn’t wander down 12th street again.”  
  
Aoi made a slight spectacle as he sprinted all of two feet to grip the dazed man’s hand tight.  
  
Ruki sighed, feeling grabby fingers press against his, “Not _my_ hand, Reita.”  
  
x.x.x  
  
“Ruki~  I don’t need all these seatbelts~”  
  
Ruki snarled at Aoi, howling back not forgotten, “I have to make sure you don’t fucking cannonball out the damn window.  If that means strapping you down with three seatbelts, so be it.”  
  
Aoi averted his watery gaze, properly chastised.  Perhaps it was because he was a tad concussed, but Ruki rolled his eyes with a twinge of pity and strapped the last seatbelt across both Aoi and Uruha, squishing them together.  
  
“There.  Keep it under NC-17.”  
  
Making sure Kai was properly swaddled with jackets as he lay on the backseat floor, Ruki crawled into the driver’s seat, grimacing at the lingering ache in his back.  Eyeing Reita next to him, positive the other wasn’t about to heave all over the dashboard, he peeled out of the parking lot.  
  
Savoring the uncharacteristic quiet in his car, save for the occasional gasp and whimper of Aoi and Uruha, Ruki was startled when Reita slurred, “Can I hold your hand now?”  
  
Ruki smirked, “If you weren’t such a fidgety, ‘macho-man’ weenie when sober, you could hold a lot more than my damn hand on a daily basis..”  
Reita gave a (manly) pout, innuendo flying over his inebriated head, “M’not a weenie.”  
  
Ruki snorted, changing lanes, “Oh, I think you are.”  
  
The elder crossed his arms with a huff, indignant, and Ruki continued to smirk.  Another lull of quiet settled around them.  He figured, if he was lucky and karma was on his side, he could get all his bastards home by 3:30AM and then collapse into bed.  Scratch that.  Pop an Advil, turn on the warm compress and gingerly lower himself into a cradle of goose-feather pillows.  Ruki absently nodded at the plan, pleased.  
  
A determined grumble broke his thoughts, “I won’t be tomorrow.  I won’t.”  
  
Ruki turned, taken aback by the sincere gleam piercing through the drunken glaze of Reita’s eyes.  _I won’t make you wait anymore._  
  
He almost choked on the squeal that was begging to be freed.  
  
Instead, the vocalist whispered, “Alright.”  
  
Slowly, Ruki tore his eyes away from Reita’s and tried to concentrate on the gleaming taillights ahead of him.  His heart thumped against his ribcage.  _Alright, then…_  
  
“Can I hold your hand _now_?”  
  
Ruki could already feel Reita’s calluses brush against his fingers.  He hid a grin, “Whatever.”  
 __  
Fuck yeah.  
  
Thursdays weren’t too bad.


End file.
